A golden rule: to leave an incomplete image of oneself.

Vague a l'ame - melancholy yearning for the end of the world.

Sometimes I wish I were a cannibal – less for the pleasure of eating someone than for the pleasure of vomiting him.

It has been a long time since philosophers have read men's souls. It is not their task, we are told. Perhaps. But we must not be surprised if they no longer matter much to us.

Reality is a creation of our excesses.

An individual dies ... when, instead of taking risks and hurling himself toward being, he cowers within, and takes refuge there.

Much more than our other needs and endeavors, it is sexuality that puts us on an even footing with our kind: the more we practice it, the more we become like everyone else: it is in the performance of a reputedly bestial function that we prove our status as citizens: nothing is more public than the sexual act.